170 The Real Charlotte. 



ing down and wondering if he saw how her hands were 

 trembling. 



* But I'm not wanted to steer, and you do want me here, 

 don't you ? " replied Hawkins, his face flushing through the 

 sunburn as he leaned nearer to her, ^'and you know you 

 never told me last night if you were angry with me or 

 not." 



"Well, I was." 



"Ah, not very — " A rather hot and nervous hand, 

 burned to an unromantic scarlet, turned her face upwards 

 against her will. " Not very ? " he said again, looking into 

 her eyes, in which love lay helpless like a prisoner. 



"Don't," said Francie, yielding the position, powerless, 

 indeed, to do otherwise. 



Her delicate defeated face was drawn to his ; her young 

 soul rushed with it, and with passionate, innocent sincerity, 

 thought it had found heaven itself. Hawkins could not tell 

 how long it was before he heard again, as if in a dream, the 

 click-clicking of the machinery, and wondered, in the dazed 

 way of a person who is " coming to " after an anaesthetic, 

 how the boat was getting on. 



" I must go back to the wheel, darling," he whispered in 

 the small ear that lay so close to his lips ; " I'm afraid we're 

 a little bit off the course." 



As he spoke, his conscience reminded him that he him- 

 self had got a good deal off his course, but he put the 

 thought aside. The launch was duly making for the head- 

 land that separated them from Bruff, but Hawkins had not 

 reflected that in rounding the last point he had gone rather 

 nearer to it than was usual, and that he was consequently 

 inside the proper course. This, however, was an easy 

 matter to rectify, and he turned the Serpolette's head out 

 towards the ordinary channel. A band of rushes lay 

 between him and it, and he steered wide of them to avoid 

 their parent shallow. Suddenly there was a dull shock, a 

 quiver ran through the launch, and Hawkins found himself 

 sitting abruptly on the india-rubber matting at Francie's 

 feet. The launch had run at full speed upon the soft, 

 muddy shallow that extended unconscionably far beyond 

 the bed of rushes, and her sharp nose was now digging it- 

 self deeper and deeper into the mud. Hawkins lost do 



